Late
by Kurokaze-sama
Summary: It's cold out, the sun is down, and he's got only one thing on his mind: her. Oneshot. KiyomaroxMegumi


**A/N:**

**KIYUMI.**

**Well, now I have the pleasure of smiting you all with my ridiculously massive obsession over Kiyomaro ... WITH ANOTHER WOMAN. Le gasp. Even though she's a WEE bit old for him, I don't give a kjdhgfhdadhg. THEY WERE SO MEANT TO BE. **

**Please do excuse me, though, if you think this sucks. A lot. I'm just trying to practice sensory detail here. And I started this four months ago, lol, so you can't blame me for the abrupt ending. DX**

**And now, on with the (excessively bad) show ...**

**Disclaimer: I. OWN. NOTHING. 'Cept the fic, in terms of writing it. But other than the fact that I wrote this, it's all Makoto Raiku-dono's (SEQUEL).**

--

The moon was bright.

His breath hung in the air, desperately trying to reach the black sky, but only ended up flying into the oblivion of the night. Gloved hands brushed through each mouthful of air, attempting to catch it before it met such a fate, with no avail, of course. The coat that spared his body of facing the harsh chill of a snowy evening was extremely thick, and rather difficult to move in. The fact that it was also quite itchy did not do well to please him, either, but the snow did not come often, and he had only one coat that could handle the frozen air. He could not afford to be picky.

The teen wasn't sure he wanted to head indoors, anyway. Sitting on the park bench, an icy rose in hand, Kiyomaro was waiting.

He kicked the snow with his rubber boots, sending the sky's frozen tears airborne for just a fraction of a second. When they hit the ground, they drove straight back down to join their watery brethren. Kiyomaro sighed. He had failed to bring a watch with him, and therefore could not count the hours. But the gift of watching the sunset on that little park bench was something he found difficult to complain about. And the twilight to night was more beautiful than he had expected, indeed. If only _she_ could have been there to see it.

Kiyomaro set the rose down and twiddled with his thumbs a bit. "Even if I have to wait 'til morning, it'll be worth it." He glanced up towards the sky, just in time for a snowflake to crash into his eye. After a fit of blinking, Kiyomaro took off his glove to wipe the pain away. "… Man …"

A red blur came into his sight when the rubbing ceased. The rose. Acting only on instinct, he tenderly hoisted the flower to his nose, and inhaled its gentle scent. Fresh, he thought, like the flakes that floated in the atmosphere around him. Fresh, he though, like her smile.

Suddenly, Kiyomaro's ear picked up an alien sound. Footsteps. He swung around to see who it was. A thick, hooded coat was all he could make out, due to the great distance, but nevertheless, his heart raced with anticipation. He peered further into the night, but his eyes could take him no more. Kiyomaro then stood from the bench, throwing the rose upon the bench, and made his way over to his mystery guest.

The figure seemed to notice his approach, but back away a bit, as if it were startled. This disturbed Kiyomaro; he did not want this person to get away.

"Hey…!" he braved, hoping that he wouldn't have to yell. The last thing that the teen wanted to bring him was attention. "Hey! Megumi-san…!"

The figure stopped moving altogether. It cocked its sheltered head slightly. At this point Kiyomaro could roughly make the stranger out, but he still wasn't sure if it was the pop idol he sought. Despite the creation of flying snow, he went into a swifter pace, trying to get close. The fast he went, though, the more doubt he possessed, for the person did not appear to recognize him at all. And he had reason to believe that Megumi would be able to identify him, even if it was simply by voice.

Finally, he stopped in front of the stranger. He could now clearly see through the hood. It was, in fact, not Megumi.

"Can I help you?" asked the gentle voice of an elder, her hands tucked deeply within her pockets.

Kiyomaro sighed. "N-no … I was just … waiting for someone."

"Oh, did I let your hopes down?" the woman joked.

"No," Kiyomaro forged a smile. "It's fine." His eyes almost shot open in realization. "Hey, could you …" He pointed to his bare wrist, remembering that the glove was still at his seat. "Tell me the time?"

The senior paused for a moment, then slowly pulled out her left hand, and read the device attached to it, which was quickly frosted over in the frigid air. "Two hours from tomorrow," she replied in a mild surprise.

"Oh …" Kiyomaro said. Had he actually been waiting for three hours?

"Well …" The elder stepped back a bit, signifying her departure. "Don't stay out too long, or you may catch a cold."

The teen laughed. "Yeah, thanks. I'll keep that in mind." He watched as the woman slowly made her way towards the morning abyss, her coat flowing behind. Kiyomaro turned around over to his park bench, but then looked back in the direction of the woman, simply out of curiosity. She was gone.

He shrugged. Kiyomaro walked back over towards the bench, staring at his discarded hand protector. The snow continued to bounce up and down with each step, barely reaching his pant legs, which happened to be tucked deeply within his rubber boots.

He stopped in front of his seat. It had been quickly been painted in white during the short time he had been gone. The teen bent down to brush off the snow before seating himself again. After going at for a while, though, he felt something sharp prick his finger.

"Ow …" Kiyomaro bounced with light astonishment. In an instant reaction, the boy shoved the finger into his mouth, tasting a small amount of blood from the piece of flesh. Then it hit him. "Oh!" The rose. He brushed through the rest of the snow on the seat, and no flower was recovered. What? No rose? Where could it have gone?

Kiyomaro sat gently on the glazed public plank, gazing at the fresh pile of snow he had forced onto the ground. His face appeared dark, hidden for the fading streetlights, and even more disturbed by the fact that his token of affection had suddenly disappeared. And a glance to the sky only did well to remind him that it was late – she was late - and the chances were not high that she would arrive at this hour.

"That doesn't help …" Kiyomaro sighed. The teen clenched his fists, softly placed on his lap. "Gotta keep positive." What if she _did _come? Then it probably wouldn't seem to cold out. Kiyomaro found that Megumi had this light - he liked to think of it as - which cleared the hopelessness out of each and every struggle she was present for. Even the ones that robbed him of her touch; her thought squeezed at his heart, and pushed him to go forth.

It was worth it. It truly was worth it. Just as soon as her soft eyes would meet his own …

Kiyomaro buried his forehead in glove and flesh, tightening his wavering eyes to the point of blindness. "But what if she _doesn't_ …?!" His fingers pushed at the very edges of his blackened hair, barely leaving his frosted brow. "What if …"

Something touched his legs. It was spiked, yet gentle, and felt light as a feather on his person. The sudden outside force, however, startled Kiyomaro, causing the smallest of jumps out of him. His eyes shot open but a second after.

"The rose …" He looked up from the flower, and after a long stare at the figure that stood before him, he smiled. The darkness may have cloaked her face, but it only took her aura to see that his waiting was finished.

"Sorry I'm late … Kiyomaro-kun."

--

**YOU HAD BETTER BE SORRY. BUSU. What girlfriend shows up three hours late?! Oh well. Hope your eyes aren't bleeding.**


End file.
